


Caffè Flambé

by simplecoffee



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Coffee, F/M, Fevers, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Iron Man 3 Compliant, James Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Sick!Tony, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, did I mention coffee, non-romantic-interest OFC, probably too many conjunctions as well, so much coffee, unexpected comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/pseuds/simplecoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein the story of Tony Stark's life is told in cups of coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caffè Flambé

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keroseneSteve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keroseneSteve/gifts).



> For [this prompt](avengerkink.livejournal.com/17613.html?thread=41339085) on AvengerKink.

Tony's a precocious and voluble five the first time Maria lets him sip her cold coffee. He's pleased as Punch about it for days; after all, it means he's a big boy now.

He blazes a trail, Tony does, from _precocious, voluble_ to _precocious, silent_ to, somehow, somewhere in between, but no matter how long his flame stays alight he'll never forget that sip.

*

 _Stark men are made of iron_ , says Howard, and Tony starts drinking his coffee black.

*

MIT is spent less in class than in coffee shops on and off campus, learning, inventing, building, coding. He spikes his double espressos from a hipflask of whatever, adding a measured quantity after each sip, calculating the ratio to four decimal places each time. Beats other so-called 'drinking games' hollow.

Rhodey thinks he's ridiculous, but Rhodey puts up with him anyway, and really, who's Tony to argue with that?

*

Obie calls him with the news. Stops by later that day and gentle-roughly picks him up off the library floor, hugs him close and offers him coffee.

"No," Tony says, weaving already from the alcohol, "no, no, _no_ ," and buries his face in Obie's shirtfront to hide the fact that he has no tears to shed.

*

Before Tony realizes she is also, among other things, a damn good sounding board, Pepper spends a great deal of time as a glorified coffee-fetcher. He tends to stick to black during working hours, pacing and sipping and talking nonstop and occasionally wondering at how quietly efficient and _unfazed_ she is.

Pepper herself has no taste for black, apparently, and eventually starts showing up with the _most ridiculous exotic-smelling mocha cream concoction_ in tow. Complete with heady aroma, it's still clearly coffee, clearly strong as hell, and Tony is, frankly, a little overwhelmed. And perhaps begins to consider that it's okay, maybe, to be something other than iron.

Something more.

Iron rusts, after all.

*

When he falls ill in Bern and can't attend the (stupid) conference they're there for, Pepper coaxes him out from under the hotel room desk, strokes his hair, and gently indicates a paper glass of...well, it's her ridiculous exotic-smelling mocha cream concoction, isn't it.

Tony drinks it. And it's _coffee_ , but it's also warm and chocolatey and creamy, and it feels so good going down his throat that he could just about black out with relief.

He doesn't, though. Just rests his head against Pepper's knees and drifts awhile.

*

Kabuli coffee is surprisingly good. Shame the taste of it will make Tony gag for the rest of his life.

*

He strides off the plane like he owns the damn planet - doesn't hug his red-eyed PA, no matter how badly he wants to. Sits back, demands a cheeseburger, doesn't stop moving until he's home. Doesn't ask for coffee until he's home, because he wants to _savour_ it, alone with the bots and Jarvis.

He wakes with a start and a soaring fever, pain shooting through his chest, sights and smells of the desert choking him, barely able to rasp out a desperate plea for Pepper.

He wakes again five days later to an IV of antibiotics in his arm, and to Pepper and Obie hovering like choppers. The latter tells him it's desert-induced pneumonia, that they've managed to keep the doctors quiet about the device in his chest; the former presses her lips together and gets him the espresso he asks her for.

*

"Jarvis, make a note, collapsible version of Mark III, disguise it as a suitcase or somethin'."

"If I may be so bold, sir: your vitals indicate that you have been, since your excursion to Gulmira in said Mark III, on the verge of a stimulant crash."

"No time, Jarv, no time. Hey, where did I put that access chip?"

*

Phil Coulson likes his coffee black and unsweetened.

Stane took it with lots of sugar. Figures, really.

*

There follows a four-month period during which he can keep nothing down but chlorophyll and alcohol. Turns out they're not the best of mixtures. Who the hell knew.

It ends with Pepper kissing him, though. And Rhodey hugging him, and Hammer in jail, and Natasha leaving a pumpkin latte on his workbench as an offer of peace.

Tony drops some red food colouring into the cappuccino he sends her in return. They trade drinks and smirks weirdly often from then on.

*

The serum makes Steve's caffeine highs shorter but more intense; he prefers lattes. Tony is intensely sad for him.

Clint will take anything up to and including instant.

Thor loves coffee, but...doesn't seem to comprehend it.

Nat likes it strong, dark and dangerous.

Bruce likes tea.

*

Malibu burns, Pepper burns, Tony burns with a fire that's not his.

It takes days, weeks, months of maniacal mindgames, but he fixes Pepper, and he fixes the bots, and he fixes himself, and they ~~live happily ever after~~ make New York their temporary base.

They drink chilled coffee on the roof of the Tower, and don't even need to lace it with liqueur. They lace their fingers together, and they breathe, and it's perfect.

*

The Tower is luxury itself, of course, but truth be told, it's not an easy transition. Truth be told there are days like this, when he's tired and bruised and aching and irritable and the last thing he wants is to see the rest of the team. When he's sleep-deprived and once-too-often bashed, has a few cracked ribs and a splitting headache and oh _hell_ , maybe a fever too. Days like this when he trudges down the too-cold city streets and forgoes Starbucks' stifling crowds in favour of a local (excellent, says Jarvis) coffee shop. Days like this, when he sinks into a sofa and then, apparently, forgets he's there.

"What can I get you today, sir?" says a musical voice above him. Tony starts violently and hides a wince.

"Coffee, please," he croaks, and apparently he can be startled into saying 'please', good to know, "hot as it gets, black as my soul."

Minutes - or hours, he can't tell - later, a strong, slender hand places a cup in front of him.

Which is full of creamy white stuff. And smells suspiciously of vanilla.

"I," he says, looks up at the waitress whose name tag reads _Jennifer_ and blinks. "...did I order this?"

"You did, sir," Jennifer says calmly, all warm smile and sparkling eyes, and there's something in her tone that reminds him of _Jarvis_ , and suddenly he's coughing softly and his eyes are watering ( _goddamn it_ ), and there's a warm hand resting on his back just where his lungs are hurting most.

"Not feeling well, huh?" she whispers, rubbing soft circles just below his shoulder blades, and Tony tries not to melt into a puddle and ruin the comfy goddamn sofa. "You just drink that, it'll do you good, Mr Stark."

"Tony," he breathes, "just Tony, please."

She's gone as suddenly as she arrived; her touch lingers. Tony drinks the vanilla latte and finds she was as good as her word.

And if, after leaving a lavish tip, he gets himself another to take home to the lab, there's no one to call him on it but the bots.

(And they don't. Because they're awesome like that.)


End file.
